Talla's Fallen Temple Ch. 09

Talla was kneeling on the floor, releasing a drain plug from the bottom of a laundry bin. She wasn't supposed to be doing laundry. That was a job for Virgins, not Initiates. But her assignment with the children had ended and the new card had said to go here.

"You're Talla?"

She looked under the table she used for folding dry clothes and saw a pair of thin legs leading up to the short white skirt of an Initiate. They weren't particularly muscular legs, so when she lifted her head above the level of the table she was expecting to see the upper body of one of her sisters of Endowment.

Instead she came eye to eye with a sharp-faced girl who sported red streaks in her hair. Even without the strap of a Messenger's satchel cutting across her cleavage, Talla would have known the girl for a Disciple of Form instantly -- and specifically Facial.

She was beautiful.

"Yes?"

"You are Talla?"

"Yes."

The girl eyed her carefully, guardedly holding a message scroll.

"A message", she said, walking around the laundry table.

Form were such sticklers. She could have just slid it across the wide surface of the table, but no, it had to be placed right in Talla's hand.

Talla took the scroll and laid it on the table.

"Aren't you going to read it?"

"What?"

When had that ever mattered? It was a normal, beige scroll with a brownish wax seal and no ribbons. It couldn't be anything important or urgent.

"Should I read it?" Talla asked.

The messenger hesitated, gave a quick glance around the room and then lowered her voice well below the volume of the laundry bins and their continuous, mill-driven agitation.

"Yes," she said. "And destroy it."

Talla's eyes went wide. What in the nine hells could ...?

"Pardon?"

"It's from Zhair'lo."

Talla felt her heart stop, and then leap. Hope rushed in, with terror closely on its heels. She felt the whip searing into her flesh. She felt the mesh that she could only have with Zhair'lo.

But just the speaking of the name could get her in so much trouble. Who was this girl that spoke it? Whoever she was, she knew the power it would bring.

"Zhair'lo?" she croaked, feeling her body shake.

"He wrote it last night," she said.

"Who are you?" Talla asked, stalling.

"My name is Zoe."

"And you were with him last night?"

"Look at me," Zoe said.

So Talla did. Zoe was a Disciple of Facial. You could see it in the structure of the bones of her face; in the fine nose and cheekbones; the eyelashes; even the red streaks in her hair. But there was something else.

Her skin.

Zoe's skin was pink and taut. It reminded Talla of the way the skin of her breasts had looked after her upgrade. Stretched and sensitive. Zoe's face looked the same.

Next she looked over the rest of her body. The skirt.

"Cut your skirt last night, did you?"

Zoe nodded.

"Sealed Virgin?"

Another nod.

Talla twisted her lips in thought. This was exactly the sort of person she needed to induct into the ... thing she was building. A Sealed Virgin; one whose Seal had been broken by Zhair'lo to boot. Obviously the recipient of a double upgrade, if the colour of her complexion was any indication.

But Talla held back. The whip had hurt. Watching Zhair'lo with that other girl had been worse. Her fingers flexed involuntarily.

"Do you know what happens to me if I take that scroll and it turns out you're out to get me?" Talla asked, flattening her voice.

Zoe winced, averting her eyes.

"They'll take you to Form and whip you again," she admitted.

Again, was it?

So she knew about that. Her knowing it meant nothing. She would have that knowledge whether she had gained it from Zhair'lo or from someone sent to trap her.

"I've taken a great risk to bring that to you," Zoe said. "Please believe me and don't waste it."

"I would be taking a much greater risk in opening it," Talla said, pretending that she wasn't dying to tear the scroll from its cylinder. "You could find a way to wiggle out of what you've done. I couldn't. Your enforcers could be hiding behind any of these laundry bins, waiting to pounce."

The bins were packed in together like a honey comb. There were a thousand enforcers hidden in the blind spots and there were none at all. It depended on which part of the imagination she let run wild.

Zoe put her arms up defensively.

"I waited until no one else was in here," she said.

Talla shrugged.

Part of her burned to open that letter. Part of her really believed there were women in leather armour just out of sight.

Zoe appeared thoughtful for a moment, then reached a moment of resignation.

"Very well," she said, and stepped sideways so the giant laundry bin was between her and the entryway.

She slipped the satchel off her shoulder and let it slide to the ground. With that out of way, she lifted the underwire of her top so it cleared her breasts and snugly wrapped itself under her arms.

Talla blinked.

"You want me to drop my skirt, too?" Zoe asked with her lips pursed in a sarcastic expression. "So we'll both be in trouble?"

"You really saw Zhair'lo?" Talla asked, nervous now not just for herself but for Zoe as well.

Talla looked more closely. That might be true. She was starting to feel real anxiety. If Zoe really was on her side, there was an awful risk of losing her if someone walked in.

"Did you know he carries your underwear around with him?"

Talla blinked again and shook her head.

Zoe smiled. She knew, now, that Talla believed her.

"Can I cover up now?" she asked.

"No, wait," Talla said.

She gave a quick glance toward the entryway and its long hallway before she too shifted position behind cover.

With a deep breath and a penetrating glare into Zoe's eyes, she undid the ties at the back of her neck, allowing the top to fall under her breasts. Once bared, she cupped both of her breasts in her hands and lifted them.

"Quickly," she told a wide-eyed Zoe.

The girl from Facial didn't miss a beat. She lowered her head and quickly pecked each of Talla's nipples before offering hers in turn.

Quicker than lightning, the girls covered their breasts. They were on the same side now, each worried not just for her own safety but that of her sister as well.

"Those are bigger than they should be," Zoe said of Talla's breasts. "Zhair'lo warned me, but ..."

"What did Zhair'lo say?"

"Read," Zoe insisted. "And burn it."

Talla tore open the scroll, leaving the cylinder aside. It was written in the men's language, and quite poorly at that. The Temple knew that making men literate was as much a waste of time as teaching them any math beyond simple arithmetic. If they could count up bushels of apples and read a Summons, it was enough to be getting on with.

Nonetheless, there was no mistaking the words scrawled upon the page, nor the masculinity of the hand that had scrawled them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Talla

I will find the ones you need.

I will test them and send them to you.

I will find as many men as I can.

We will wait for your messaj.

Zhai.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You didn't correct his spelling?"

"Seemed more authentic this way," Zoe shrugged.

Talla watched that shrug, remembering how harshly they disciplined girls who made that gesture. Zoe did it so naturally and guiltlessly, however, that Talla knew her new sister must have been taught differently.

"You won't find allies in Iron or Tight," Zoe explained. "But you'll get lots from Facial, maybe even some who weren't Sealed like me."

"What about Sweetness?" Talla asked.

Another shrug.

"How should I know?"

Talla bit her lip.

"He's expecting a message back," Zoe pointed out. "I'll try to stay assigned to Messenger duty as long as I can. It's a weird thing for a Facial girl to request, so I can't stay on it too long, but nobody likes doing it so they always take volunteers."

"I should write something back?"

Zoe nodded.

There was a commotion down the hall. In one smooth motion, Zoe grabbed the parchment from Talla's hand and whisked it down a chute that she knew led to the fires under the giant washing tubs.

"We have to get together," Talla said, knowing what test Tina would demand be conducted.

"Look," Talla admonished. "There's more than just me in this. I'll be risking other people taking you in. I have to test you, for their sakes."

The footsteps were coming down the hallway, getting closer.

"No time now," Zoe said.

Her eyebrows went low and her face became dark as she contemplated Talla's request for such a private meeting. How in the names of the nine gods could two girls from different Divisions accomplish such a thing?

Something struck Zoe suddenly.

"There's a Bazaar starting tomorrow. Which night aren't you Serving?"

"The night after."

"Good," Zoe said. "Come to the bazaar then. Eighth bell, so it'll be dark. Bring a friend you can trust."

She thought for a moment, then gave Talla a once over.

"Wear something that covers your chest. Completely. I'll be waiting."

She turned to leave, going around the back of the laundry bin so as to elude whoever was coming in.

Over her shoulder she gave one last whisper.

"And have your message ready."

-----------===================-------------

Beshenna

If there was one thing Binyata liked about running with the Fighters, on the rare occasions that a Second like her got the chance, it was the opportunity to have sex in the middle of the day. The vast majority of women were never assigned to Serve in such a capacity.

Fighters were an odd lot. They were trusted with weapons because of their unswerving loyalty, and so were sent on long trips far from town and Goddess. When they were in town they worked such odd shifts of guard duty and even then they were located at the most far flung outposts. So when they got Served, they found themselves taking their women one after the other in between dry spells that could last many days. The Temple, regardless, favoured these with more Service than any other men.

Favoured them greatly, indeed, for hers was not the first tunnel this particular warrior had plunged his sword into this day.

Binyata was odd among women of Form. Most of her kind, whether of Iron like she or of the other Disciplines, preferred their penetrations from behind. The thumping of a man's pelvis against her hard, tense thighs and tightly bent over rear was considered the best way to stimulate her upgraded flesh.

And if the thumping couldn't do it, there was always the spanking. That never failed to bring the thrill into it.

But not Binyata.

Oh, she liked a good palm across the ass on some days, like any proper woman of Form. Hell, most of her partners just expected it of her, given her Division. But she preferred her men on top and in front of her where she could see them.

So here was Xerren, a rock of a man even among his kind, plunging past the lips she spread with her fingers. She wasn't much for that exhibitionist, self-exposure sort of thing, but she had sensed that spreading herself open this way did wonders for him. For her own pleasure, she sat on the edge of a high bed with her legs spread and pulled far back in the way that only Tight upgrades could allow. That made sure that she still got to be on the receiving end of a good hard thumping to the places that mattered.

The big deal for her, however, aided and abetted as it was on the this occasion by the need to show off her inner pinkness, was the tension in her stomach required to hold her upper body in place. She was, after all, of Iron.

She was panting now, using one hand to push Xerren away with all the power in her arm and chest, just so she would have to work her core even harder. Her upper body strength, however, was nothing to his sheer mass, as he pushed through her mock protest and pounded relentlessly against her cheeks.

Looking down, she saw his reddened shaft ploughing past her fingers and her lips, never stopping, always in and out, his pelvis thundering at her flesh, setting her muscles to ripple up and down her body. Her face contorted with the strain of holding her body this way.

He was getting large inside her, his head swelling and stretching at the opening she held as tightly as she could. It wasn't for nothing, after all, that she held so many Sweetness upgrades.

When she could take no more -- when the swollen member stretching at her vagina crossed her threshold of pain and her abdominal muscles were begging her to stop -- she released herself and let their mutual orgasm flood through her.

If flooding was the right word.

One would have to be using the word "flood" in the sense of a massive dam breaking open, letting a tidal wave of water crash over the unsuspecting town at its foot.

Binyata and Xerren drowned in that flood, all other thoughts and feelings crushed under its onslaught.

It lasted quite a while, that mindless orgasm.

'The Sweetness women,' Binyata thought, 'really have a thing going. The way they can ... the way I can hold off an orgasm and let it build up ..."

In short order Xerren withdrew from her and her legs fell limply to the ground, muscles having forgotten their function for a moment.

"Fuck, that was good," Xerren said, which counted, probably, as a high compliment. It wasn't worth the effort to expect great manners from a Fighter.

"Cleared you out," Binyata murmured, shaking some sensation back into her thighs.

Xerren arranged himself comfortably on the bed, not looking anywhere near exhausted.

"Pretty close," he smirked.

The man had just returned from a rather far flung patrol, or so she imagined by his appetite.

"Well, I have duties to attend to," she said, finding enough coordination to stand and tie on her short, blue skirt. "But I'm sure they've provided for you."

"Damn right," he said.

He shook himself, as if remembering his manners.

"Well Served," he threw in, his tone that of an afterthought.

"Indeed," she replied, casting her own smirk.

She pulled her blouse on over her head, gave a quick nod of her head and left the room. It was a short jaunt to find the exit of the tiny building and step out into the blinding sunlight where someone coughed for her attention.

"Oh, Trisha," Binyata said lightly, noting the well endowed woman who stood outside the watch tower.

Judging by her expression, Trisha had been waiting quite a while outside that door.

"Finished up, are you?"

"I am," Binyata admitted. She jerked her head towards the room behind her. "Can't say the same for him."

Trisha looked down the length of Binyata's muscular and sweat covered body before rolling her eyes.

"Binyata," she admonished. "There's semen running down your legs."

"Need to find a cistern, then, huh?" Binyata asked, a touch of red in her cheeks. "Walk with me."

Trisha was an Officer, placing her just one rank below Binyata. That meant, among other things, that she followed where Binyata led, in spite of the fact that they were from different Divisions entirely.

If Binyata could say one thing about the Temple and city of Beshenna, and her travels before she had settled down had given her experience of many Temples and cities, it was that Beshenna had water. It had aqueducts and canals, streams and rivers. This was the place where the scientists and engineers were developing pumps that might some day be used the world over. Binyata was only vaguely aware that such things were going on. Her job was defending the city and maintaining order.

For all of that, it wasn't a long walk to find a well appointed cistern with reasonably warm water and a small unoccupied building for people to wash themselves down.

It was into one such structure, a building made particularly for women, that this pair ducked.

Binyata shucked off her blue skirt and simple work shirt -- there was no underwear -- and revealed her lithe, muscular body. She stretched, ostensibly to stretch the kinks out of her body, but it mostly looked like preening.

Trisha leaned casually against the wall of the small shower room, rolling her eyes to demonstrate how unimpressed she was.

For her part, the naked woman's eyes darkened as she looked back at the Officer.

"What?" Trisha asked.

Binyata nodded at the Endowment woman's body.

"Oh, please."

"Rules exist for a reason," Binyata intoned, though it wasn't the fear-inspiring line it might have been elsewhere. "Shall I report you?"

Trisha warily eyed her superior, noting the way sweat was beading and dripping along her muscular form. She rolled her eyes in resignation.

Stripping in front of another woman, in a room guarded by a red star no less, shouldn't have been any problem. It was especially true for women of Abundance, who carried their obvious signs of rank on the fronts of their bodies. The size of Trisha's breasts attested to her seniority and should have left her full of confidence in any meeting involving this sort of nudity.

But Trisha and Binyata had known each other a very long time.

All the same, there were rules. And Binyata was completely naked and a full rank above Trisha.

Trisha undid the laces on her little pair of underwear and hung them on a hook, revealing the thick mat of glossy pubic hair that her rank had brought her. Her top, a scant number considering that her rank afforded her the right to wear a full shirt, came off next. Underneath was a bra charged with supporting nine Abundance upgrades' worth of breasts. A pair of hooks were needed to keep that all in order. These were undone from the back.

Trisha, her breasts hanging like deliciously ripe melons, returned to leaning against the wall.

Binyata leered briefly at the other woman's body before kicking the lever that released a gentle stream of water over her head.

"Fancy a shower?"

There wasn't really room for two. Trisha didn't even answer.

"You know why I'm here," she said instead.

"It wasn't to gaze lustfully at my naked Form?"

Something flickered across Trisha's face. It might have been anger.

"My Mistress expects a report."

Binyata took her time, having left the water flow at a low setting, to soap up her body, comparing it step by step with the woman frowning at her.

'I don't have your breasts,' she thought, 'but I'm catching up and you know it.'

Most Form women, if one didn't count Facial, left the Abundance upgrades to the very last. Breasts got in the way of most of the martially styled duties that Form women wanted. Starting with messenger duties at the lowest ranks, continuing on through guard duty and finally running with the Fighters and the H'rem, there weren't any Form assignments in which a giant pair of tits came in particularly handy.

Unless you counted those types that worked the real Frontier ...

Binyata shook her head clear.

"My Mistress has little to report."

"Give us what little you have," Trisha demanded drily.

"Your missing babies do not appear to have ever existed," Binyata said. "All of the women who were known to be pregnant gave birth to either live babies who are kicking and fussing in nurseries right now, or had stillbirths with cremations appropriately witnessed and accounted for."